


Remember to Recycle

by TrinityEverett



Series: Maritari [4]
Category: Castle
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4717310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrinityEverett/pseuds/TrinityEverett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beckett and Castle make the most of a really boring party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember to Recycle

This chapter takes place in the same universe as Chapter 2 (Catch It On Netflix). Read all chapters here.

**Maritari**

_**Chapter 4 -** **Remember to Recycle** _

* * *

_Marry me. We can hold hands and go to parties that we end up ditching to drink wine out of the bottle in the bathtub together._

For such a famous and accomplished author, and a generally nice person, James Patterson's parties kind of suck.

Oh, his penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park is breathtaking, there's no doubt about that. She'd spent more than a few minutes out on the balcony earlier, watching the sky turn orange, pink, then purple before fading into the blue of twilight. The inside of the apartment is gorgeous, too. Patterson's wife and their designer have done a wonderful job with the interior decorating; it's classic without being too ostentatious.

The same thing could be said for the man himself. Every time they get together, she sees exactly what Castle means about the unspoken competition between the two of them, but the man is sweet enough.

Unlike some of his guests at this soiree. Ugh. For them she'll definitely use the word pompous. They're the ones ruining the party, really, not Patterson.

At least Castle's parties are fun, and his guests exciting, colorful people. There's always music and enjoyable conversation. Their family's there when she needs a break from the boisterous crowd and from seeing women continue to flirt with him (though women know better than to even  _try_ when they come into  _her_ home). Here, apart from the balcony, there isn't really anywhere she can go to escape. And if she does retreat out there again, she's sure she'll get a look or two from the gallery that's been sizing her up since she arrived.

Whatever, she needs the air. She came straight from a hellacious shift, changing in her car and almost breaking an ankle stepping off the curb just to be here with her husband, only to have him whisked away less than twenty minutes after she joined him. Since then she's been manning the wall with a plate of snacks in her hand.

She doesn't blame Castle for disappearing on her; it comes with the territory. If she came to more of these parties with him, maybe she'd know more of the other guests and be able to talk to them. But since she doesn't know them, and she doesn't get to hang out with her husband, she kind of wishes he'd brought someone along for her to talk to. Sadly, Alexis is off exploring the mysteries of Italy and the Mediterranean with her new boyfriend and a group of their friends, and her babies are too little to be here, so she's on her own.

Her heart pangs a little bit. Damn. One of her first nights off in a while and she's missing her kids like crazy.

But, oh, she can use calling home to check on Martha, her father, and her children as an excuse to step outside. Mentally, she pats herself on the back; that's a good plan. Even the socialites across the room can't complain about that.

Abandoning her plate on the edge of a table might be a little bit uncouth, but she's willing to take the scorn for it if she's able to slip out without being noticed.

"Beckett! Hey, sorry, sorry," Castle practically skids over to her just as her hand closes on the ornate handle to the balcony. "I kept trying to get back over here and people kept grabbing me. I'm sorry."

"You're fine, Castle. I was just going to call your mom and check on the kids."

"Ah!" Castle digs into his pocket, brandishing his phone eagerly. "Mother sent me pictures when she and your dad put them down. Riley wanted to have a sleepover with the twins, so she set up her nap mat on the floor by the toy box."

Rick flicks through the series of pictures of the infant boys asleep under their blankets before moving to the photo of Riley, curled on her side under her favorite blanket, thumb in her mouth as Kate's father reads her the bedtime book of the month.

Beckett's eyes sting a little bit. "Oh, that's… that's so sweet."

"Yeah it is, isn't it?" he murmurs, knotting their fingers, his palm warming hers. "You miss them don't you?"

"Yeah," she grumbles, resting her forehead on his shoulder. "I should be dancing because I have a break, but I miss them."

Castle squeezes her hand. "Kate, we don't have to stay. We can go home right now if you want to. This isn't a work party; I'm not required to be here, and if you're not having fun, we can go."

"No," she denies, shaking her head. "No, Castle. Except for when I go to work, I haven't seen the outside world without a car seat or a stroller in months. We're staying."

Pulling away, she notices the corners of his lips turning up.

"Don't laugh at me," she warns, tugging on his hand. "I know you're with them more often than I am, but you know what I mean."

"I'm not laughing, honey. I'm not. Much," he concedes, ducking as she thumps his ear. "Okay, we'll stay. We'll stay. Come with me?"

Nodding, she keeps his hand as he weaves between the other guests, offering smiles and the occasional greeting. They even pass Patterson himself. Their host doesn't seem slighted when they don't stop to chat, he simply offers her a smile and a nod before turning back to his conversation.

She nearly collides with her husband's back when he makes an abrupt stop at the bar, but instead of scolding him, her cheek settles against his shoulder blade. Her kids aren't the only ones she's been missing tonight. Their date nights are usually a lot more private than this.

"Did you get enough to eat?"

"Mmm?" It dawns on her that he's talking to her.

"Food, Beckett. Did you eat enough?"

"Oh yeah. I grazed the entire time you were schmoozing."

He eyes her quickly, which earns him an eye roll in return. "I mean it, Castle. I'm good. I demolished the mini-quiches and the veggie plate."

Chuckling, he nods. "Okay, well I'm still hungry, so we're gonna take  _these_ ," he mutters, grabbing a small plate of cocktail sausages and passing them back to her. "And this."

"Castle," Kate hisses, looking around to see if anyone's even paying attention to them. No one is, of course, but she still moves to block him from sight. "You're just taking a bottle of wine?"

"And a corkscrew." He waggles it quickly, sliding the object into his jacket pocket. "Come on, this way."

His fingers curl around hers again, tugging her out of the kitchen.

"Where are we going?" She looks over her shoulder once more to see if their shenanigans have been spotted. They haven't, of course, but she still checks.

"Ah, you'll see."

His mouth ghosts across her knuckles and they step around a corner to a quiet hallway.

"Castle, I'm not sneaking into Patterson's bedroom to make out."

"Not his  _bedroom_ , Beckett, eww. We," he pauses, stopping at the third door on the right, "are using the guest bathroom. To relax. Not to make out. Unless you want to, of course, because that's something I would never be opposed to."

Snickering, she shakes her head. "So you stole a bottle of wine and a plate of cocktail wieners and you're sneaking me into James Patterson's guest  _bathroom_ to relax and eat and drink said treats?"

"Yes? I won't run the bath for you if you don't want to change. Is that not okay? I mean, it kind of sounds like crap when you say it like that, but I thought it'd be nice. "

It is nice. Odd, but nice.

Leaning in, she brushes his cheek with her lips. "It is nice. Let's do it. But no bath; that'd just be weird."

Castle grins, opening the door to reveal a bathroom almost the size of their bedroom at home.  _This_  is the  _guest_  bathroom? And not the one the party guests are using?

"Jeez."

"Yeah," her husband murmurs, ushering her in and slipping the door closed behind them. She waits until she hears the lock click before stepping further into the room. "This is what four books a year instead of my measly two will get you."

"Ah, but I'm not really interested in trading, Castle." Kate knocks their linked hands against his hip, stealing a kiss from his mouth. "Your 'measly' two are more than enough for me."

Ostensibly, his words were a joke, but Kate feels his shoulders sag with relief at her response.

"Hey," she murmurs, tapping the back of his hand. "What's that?"

The smile's back on his face, but she doesn't quite believe it.

"Nothing. Just glad to hear that. Because who  _else_  would let you sit on his jacket in someone else's bathtub while you snack and guzzle wine from the bottle?" He takes the plate of cocktail sausages from her hand, settling it on the edge of the counter.

Snorting she toes her shoes off, losing just enough height to gain the perfect angle to slide her lips along the underside of his chin. He shudders under her ministrations, swaying into her a little more.

"Only you, babe, only you. Now, strip, crack open that wine, and get in."

It's not the most comfortable seat in the world, but it'll do. The bathtub itself is large enough for both of them to stretch out, but the lack of water accentuates the rigidness of the porcelain under her butt, even through Castle's jacket. Still, her husband's chest is pillow enough for her back, his arms a welcome rest for her cheek, and his knee the perfect spot to curl her fingers when she's not taking a drink. After a while she barely notices the numbness in her butt.

They pass the bottle between them, taking less-than-delicate swigs of a vintage that was probably far too expensive to be treated this way. It works, though. Her earlier frustrations melt away, replaced by a delicate warmth that spreads through her limbs down to her toes. The steady thud of Castle's heartbeat lulls her even more.

"I kind of hate these parties," Rick confesses finally, his cheek smashed into her hair. She hums in acknowledgement, tracing the line of his forearm down to his wrist and back to his elbow. "Especially when they're here."

"Because he throws your work in your face?"

"Or lack of. It's usually teasing, friendly hazing, the same stuff I give right back, but sometimes… I kind of wonder if he's right."

Frowning, she twists in his arms. "You think you don't do enough work? Two books a year, collaborating on the graphic novels, working on the short stories you tell Riley to get her to sleep at night, sneaking peeks at my case files when I'm blocked, and helping me raise  _three_  kids under five? Rick, I think you do plenty of work."

The wine has loosened her tongue, making the words that sometimes stick in her throat come more easily. Pressing her mouth to his, she holds his cheek. He'd never move away from her, but this keeps him here, keeps him present.

"Yeah, you procrastinate, and you sit through hours of that ridiculous show your daughter loves, but you also do so  _much_. So forget whatever hell they give you because you're not dipping your toes into twenty different novels a year. You do more than enough."

Castle smiles beneath her, trailing his fingers up her arm and down her side.

"Really?"

Affection fills her heart. "Really." She punctuates it with a kiss. "Now drink up, we've earned this. You put up with the writers, I put up with their snooty friends."

Her husband laughs, taking his turn before passing the wine bottle back to her.

"I owe you another night out."

"Mmm, you don't, but I'll accept it anyway." They don't get nearly enough time to themselves anymore. Not since Riley was born, and absolutely not since the twins came onto the scene. Suffice to say, sometimes she misses her husband, even though he sleeps – or tries to sleep – beside her every night.

Castle nuzzles her neck, brushing his nose along a delicate path up to her ear. "Next weekend. You, me, the Ferrari on the open road, and then we'll finish the evening with some room service and a very large, very empty suite at the Four Seasons?"

Shivering, she nods. It's tempting. It's so tempting. But, "Who's gonna watch the kids?" she breathes.

"Mother. Maybe your dad if I beg him nicely enough. It is for your mental well-being, after all," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to that  _spot_  that never, ever fails to get her going.

"S'good. S'a good plan." Beckett clears her throat, reaching for the bottle again, trying to ignore the rush of heat in her fingers, the ache to tease a little right back. If this were her bathroom, she'd be all over it, but it's not. It's someone else's. It's… shit, he needs to stop touching her like that.

Oh, fuck it.

Spinning in Castle's arms, her mouth comes down hard on his. To his credit, he doesn't feign surprise, or pretend not to know exactly what his caresses were doing to her. Smart man. Smart, smart man.

The wine bottle lands outside the tub, rocking precariously before thankfully righting itself as she tastes the vintage from her husband's tongue. She's going to have bruises on her knees from straddling him in this damn tub, but she doesn't care, not with the way Castle's hands cup her ass through her dress, urging her closer.

It's wrong, doing what they do in James Patterson's guest bathroom during the man's party, but it's pretty obvious they can't bring themselves to regret it. Neither of them regret the wrinkled clothes or the flushed cheeks. They also make no move to fend off still-wandering hands, instead sneaking even more kisses while cleaning themselves (and the scene of their misdeed) up.

She has to fix her hair; it was a casualty of Castle's questing fingers and it can't be hidden the way her stretched and possibly ripped underwear can be. Once they're decent enough, they share a last kiss – pressed against the counter since her legs are still having a little bit of trouble keeping her standing – and a giddy smile.

"Best party ever," he whispers, grabbing the wine bottle off the floor and offering her a final sip. He polished off the cocktail sausages earlier, thankfully, and she tosses the empty plate into the trashcan.

"Mhmm, yeah it is." She pushes her hand into his. "Come on, let's get out of here. I want to go home and do that again, only with bubbles."

As far as she can tell, nobody has noticed their absence. Patterson and Castle's other writer buddies look up when her husband calls a goodnight, waving jovially before going back to their conversation. There's no collective gasp, or acknowledgement that they look sexed up. No one even bats an eye at the bottle Castle holds, or the way she's curled against her husband's side, a little drowsy with wine and love.

There's a part of her that's actually disappointed and Castle's sly grin tells her he knows exactly what she's thinking.

"We could make a scene if you really want," he murmurs, pressing his mouth to her brow. "I could let you have your way with me right here."

"You'll let me, hmm?" she teases, teasing her finger down his hip. He stands straighter under her hands, squirming closer.

"Well I could be persuaded. Easily."

"Oh, Castle, of that I have no doubt." They both laugh at the noise he makes with one slide of her hand.

A few heads turn when he unceremoniously dumps the wine bottle into an empty bin and grabs her hand to haul her out of the apartment, but nobody comments.

At least they remember to recycle on their way out?


End file.
